You're More
by Supey
Summary: Something bad happened, and Providence is replacing Rex - unfortunately, something even worse is about to begin.


"Hey, slimy!"

One stalk eye swiveled upwards, only to be Slamhanded with a satisfying _THWUMP_ moments later, crumpling from the impact and retracting into soggy brown-and-green protective lobes.

"_Vreeeee_!" The mutant, a slimy, frog-like behemoth, keened, gooey feelers standing on end down its back and straining towards the mechanical arm as it drew back.

Rex grinned and placed his hand on the EVO's nose. It sunk into soft skin and ooze, and he made a face while blue light traced a nanite entry path across his shuddering victim.

Around him were down or recovering Providence agents, having fallen back as the organization's pet EVO and resident situation-solver took the lead. It looked more like a bomb had gone off than a genetic mutation; all around the sopping monster and the boy concentrating over it stretched destruction and rubble, bent telephone poles and torn-off bits of buildings scattered here and there, while the occasional unlucky innocent bystander (the ones that hadn't evacuated, for whatever reason – happened every time) cried out from beneath the ruins of their apartment complexes and had to be dug out by any non-idling men in uniform. Innocent bystanders who'd just figured out there was a battle going on, TV newspeople, and Providence guys who'd spent too much time in the thick of things occasionally coughed – all that plaster dust and asbestos couldn't possibly be good for the system.

He felt the rush of warmth and familiarity that came with taking in calmed nanites, and drew back to wipe his hand on his pants before offering it to the dazed and somewhat bedraggled – but fully human – woman dripping before him in nothing but torn bike shorts and a sports bra.

Confused sobs of gratitude arrived on cue, unfortunately without an accompanying hug today, and before he could even do newly dried-off Maggie Penton the favor of sharing his own name, silent Stormtrooper arms materialized to usher him back into an air-taxi to the keep.

"Aw, c'mon," he joked at Six as they rose. "Wouldn't hurt to wait until _after_ the victory kiss once in a while."

"Save y'self fer marriage," Bobo suggested sagely from his harness, looking green.

"I wouldn't call it a _victory_," Six said, curt, touching the side of his sunglasses. "Eight city blocks as good as leveled, Rex. Providence expects better."

"Yeah, yeah," the boy said.

"I'm serious. This is the ninth mission in a row with that kind of collateral damage. Remember last week, with the streets in Baltimore caving in? It's more expensive than the targets call for."

Rex faked a yawn. "Can we go home already? _Holiday_ doesn't lecture me for saving people."

"White isn't going to be happy."

"He never is. Nobody _died_."

Six didn't respond. Rex sighed, but stopped talking.

* * *

"Say 'Ah'."

"Ah!" He complied, a little overenthusiastically, but at least he couldn't spout come-ons with a penlight shining down his throat.

"You're clear," she said minutes later, stepping back to scribble on the day's chart. "Stretches?"

"Done. Six made me."

"All right. Meditation, then."

"What!"

"Go to the Garden for an hour and become one with the earth."

"But-"

"No buts. And you know the drill; if those biometrics start acting up I'll send someone to check on you, so behave."

He threw his hands in the air and growled at Bobo on the way out, but he did go. Holiday paced the length of the examination table absentmindedly while inputting reports for Providence labs (and White, always White) via PDA.

"I…think I'm gonna go grab a snack," Bobo Haha said, pointing at the door once her attention turned to him. "You want anything?"

"No, thanks," she said, checking her watch. "But if you see Agent Six, tell him to stop by and pick up Rex's folder. He's running late again."

"Will do, Doc."

* * *

White surrounded them. White tables, white walls, white MRI tube looming in the corner. Even her lab coat. All angular, reflective, like something out of a sci-fi novel – but that's what Providence did, after all. Shone a light in everybody's eyes so they could clean things up in blind peace. Six had a real problem with that, so it always visited his thoughts in the airships. Not so much the Providence part - he wasn't a holier-than-thou cynic but a grump - just the light part. He didn't like bright lights, except in a combat situation – and that was strictly strategy.

The next time somebody gave him grief about wearing sunglasses indoors, he'd send them here. Too much dazzle. He didn't have time for dazzle.

Even if he had to make time for white.

"What's up?"

He looked to Dr. Holiday.

She rolled her eyes. "I can _see_ you spacing out, Mister Melodrama. Save me some trouble, just spill. What's on your mind?"

His mouth tightened. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," she replied, scribbling on that clipboard that never seemed to leave her hands. For a moment, the irrational concern that it was a note about _him_ passed through his mind.

That's when he noticed she was writing with her left hand, all four fingers of her right supporting the clipboard.

His irritation melted away.

"Just – Rex's most recent mission." It left his mouth with just the calculated lack-of-emotion-yet-not he'd been aiming for, and yet he knew she'd pick up what no camera or microphone could.

"Not again?" Holiday's eyes filled with worry. He couldn't show a smile, but Six was glad. They always caught on to each other quick.

"All I know is that the report came in at the same time we did."

"Anything complicated?"

He didn't respond for a moment. But that only worked with Rex, who hadn't her intuition to rely on, so he gave an answer before she could ask. "We'll see. I've got an appointment with White Knight about it later."

"All right then." She dropped the pen casually into a tray on her way out, slid the clipboard almost all the way between the others. "Tell me how it goes."

"Only what's relevant."

Holiday left him a cheery wave, flashing a smirk as she passed behind the door, heels already clicking against the metal halls.

He paused on his way out, hand on the doorknob, and scanned the room, eyes coming to rest on the examination table.

Then, without a sound, he hit the light switch and turned away.

The door slid shut with a hiss.

* * *

He found Rex pacing back and forth on a dirt path, artificial sunlight sliding across him between the shadows of the Garden's leafy canopy.

"No Petting Zoo today?" Six asked, seating himself on a little white bench – plain, classy, cast in fiberglass and identical to the thirty or so others placed at regular intervals along the spiraling trails.

"Nah," Rex said, coming to a stop and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I guess my biometrics can't handle it. Or something. Dr. Holiday didn't really say."

Six nodded.

The boy sat beside him, slouching as much as possible with hands still in his pants. "So why're you here?" He watched a butterfly flit towards hanging flowers, the anticipation in his gaze softened by the fact that the plants here were no more dangerous than a dinner salad, or an oxygen tank. The insect perched delicately upon a petal and no snapping jaws appeared.

Six still hadn't spoken, Rex still wanted to try for small talk. "Social calls are not exactly your thing, in case you haven't noticed. Do we get to fight another EVO today, or what?"

The butterfly chilled out across from them, probably sucking up some nectar with its proboscis, wings gently opening and closing to show off its amber monarch patterns.

"Hel-lo, Earth to Six."

Six sighed, the why-Rex-why sigh, and a surge of satisfaction swept through the teenager. "You came to tell me Holiday's throwing me a surprise party tomorrow and look fancy," he said cheerfully. "Or you finally got me a new iPod to replace the one Bobo-"

"Rex." The hard edge to Six's voice stopped him mid-sentence.

Rex extricated his hands from his pockets and sat up, palms down on the bench.

Again with the silence.

"Yeah – yes?" he said, prodding.

Six looked at him. "Try to keep it together. Don't smash so many buildings. Pay attention during your lessons."

Rex just stared back. "Are you serious?" He waved his hand around. "I thought you came out for something special, and you give me _the mom talk_?"

"It's not a-" Six's irritation was curbed by a low, steady tone in his earpiece. Then, a familiar voice crackled from the speaker.

"Hold that thought." Six stood up, adjusting his jacket to make sure the swords were sheathed properly.

"What? Who's calling you?" Rex followed suit, but his grin grew. He already knew.

"Looks like it's your lucky day," Agent Six said. "Another EVO to fight."

"Oh _yeah_!" Rex whooped, pulling his goggles down and racing for the Garden exit.

* * *

"Is it even possible to kick excessive amounts of butt? I think not."

"Somebody's peppy today." Bobo lounged beside him – well, slightly above him. They were back in the exam room, Rex leaning back as far as his generic plastic chair would allow for maximum coolness, Bobo happily slumped in his usual perch, knees drawn high and gun resting on his belly like a security blanket.

"Hey, it's not every day you see a giant lava snake get totally BF_trashed_ and sucked back to human, courtesy of yours truly. I only broke, like, one street this time, too." Rex laced his fingers behind his back. "Plus the toad this morning – _does_ Providence pay me? They should. I'm getting access to whatever I'm supposed to be paid, right now. Because - Who's the _man_?"

"Youse the _man_," Bobo growled. "The _dead_ man, that is, what nobody heard die, if y'keep this up. And the snake thing wasn't lava, just covered in dust and rocks and…beh." He rubbed the handle of his gun, eyes on the door. "Kids."

Rex just grinned. "Noah is gonna be _so_ jealous he missed today. Oh, hey, Doctor Holiday!" He straightened up as she walked into the room, shooting him a curious glance while she wheeled an IV stand over by the light on the examination table and adjusted it.

"Hi, Rex," she said, smiling, but not looking over. "How was the second one?"

"Great!" He replied. "I kicked major EVO tail, Doc, you should've been there." He leapt up and crossed the room. "In fact, I can recount the entire awesome story over, say, a candlelit dinner. Tonight. As soon as my checkup's over with." He smiled at her, raising his eyebrows.

She raised her own in return, still focused on lifting the table's heavy strap. "Hold this." She dropped it into his arms and he obeyed.

"It's really heroic, I promise," he said.

"This isn't a normal checkup, Rex." She measured out the IV tube.

He looked at it warily. "I don't _feel_ sick," he said.

She made a note on a chart taped to the foot of the table.

Rex cleared his throat. "Uh, Dr. Holiday? I thought the nanites kept me from catching diseases. What do I got, exactly?"

Holiday slid her ID card against the sensor on the table, and sensors hummed to life. "It's nothing," she said. "We just need to check up on your nanites. Make sure they're working properly."

"If you say so," Rex frowned. "Never needed anything but the computers before."

"It's standard procedure with the other EVOs Providence employs," Holiday said, sounding almost bored – she still hadn't looked him in the eyes since she came in. "We haven't bothered with yours before."

"Your nanites are a lot more cooperative, for one thing," another voice said.

Agent Six stepped in and closed the door behind him, but didn't engage the lock. "It's always good to know what's going on, either way." He motioned at the examination table.

"Nice to see you too," Rex quipped as he hopped up, lying down. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bobo's hands stop their motions along the monkey's gun barrels.

Then Holiday was leaning over him, pulling the table's strap across. Pulling gloves on. Pulling a tourniquet and giant-needle-hiding catheter out of nowhere and slipping tight latex around his forearm. He noted a plain old syringe, too, lying delicately among the other medical supplies. Great. More needles.

And tubing. Dr. Holiday was fussing with tubes now. At least he didn't have to _understand_ exactly how this all worked, long as it did whatever they wanted it to.

"We can't do the gas today, Rex," she said apologetically when he frowned at the mystery needle. "This is going to be delicate work."

He nodded, smiling. She swabbed at his wrist with antiseptic-dipped cotton he hadn't even seen on the table, veins apparently swollen enough now. Dr. Holiday picked up the first syringe, the plastic-covered one, and placed her other hand on his arm.

He realized the table strap wasn't actually fastened, and glanced at Six, still hovering behind Holiday with an unreadable frown beneath his glasses. Rex wondered if they'd notice he wasn't tied down properly. He also wondered why Six was still standing there, a little, but Six generally didn't hang around places without a reason, so it probably had to do with the impromptu medical procedure.

Holiday's gloved fingers were warm on his arm.

It felt like she was tugging in the other direction, but she plunged the tip right into a bulging vein. As the catheter pressed in under his skin, he hissed uncomfortably – not from the twinge, but the sight of it lodging itself in.

Just as she pressed on his arm again, he glanced up to find Dr. Holiday looking directly at him for the first time since she'd walked in the door. Not, however, any sort of gaze he might have expected.

Her face was drawn, somehow paler despite the warm light from the table's lamp. Her eyes were wide and - as Rex looked on, baffled, they filled with tears.

"What's going-" he began, but was cut off by a sick, direct _THUNK_. Dr. Holiday's tormented eyes rolled back, she slipped like a wrecking ball with its cord severed, and would have slammed facefirst into the table and Rex if a strong, green arm hadn't grabbed her from behind, sword hilt still clasped in the hand at the end.

Six pulled Holiday back and left her leaning against the table, then nodded at Bobo, who took careful aim and sent a blast at the cameras in the upper corners of the room with his blasters. Six then straightened up, yanked the unfastened table strap off Rex, and pulled the green plastic catheter nib out of his arm, handing the confused boy a gauze pad off the table as he sat up.

"Ow!" Rex yelped as the thing was ripped out of his arm seconds after it went in. He pressed the pad to the wound, though, and picked up the medical tape that had lain beside it to wrap around his arm and cover the small but growing red circle at the center.

"Get up," Six said, brisk and urgent. Bobo had landed on the ground and now stood by the door, sliding it open, weapons trained on the hallway outside.

Rex pressed a hand to his forehead. "What was – that – did – but – Six, did you just _knock Holiday out with your sword_?"

Six picked up a pen that'd been lying on a tray atop the ledge for reports. He unscrewed the cap, shook out what looked like a cigarette, and put it back together. "We need to go, now. Before they have time to send somebody." He headed for the door. Bobo took off down the hall, Six stepped partially out, waving for Rex to follow.

"Come on! We have ten, fifteen minutes tops." Six's other sword slipped out of his sleeve into his hand with a mechanical _snick_, and he glanced impatiently behind him, to give the still-stunned boy a _look_.

Rex's step faltered. The teen's eyes were wide and he kept glancing at Dr. Holiday slumped beside the examination table, but his feet had been moving since the first words left Six's mouth - some part of training that had evidently stuck.

"What's going on?"

"White ordered you neutralized, Rex." Six's eyes lurked behind his sunglasses. He scanned the hallway in one sweep, and then motioned for them to head left with the sword in that hand.

_Oh. Well, that explains _everything_. No, wait, it doesn't. Not really._

"I never liked that guy," he muttered, following Six out the door.

* * *

A darkness had settled across their once-strong land, forests that had teemed with life and purpose now dry and growing thinner. Freed of their fear, many had broken ranks, leaving the EVOs' holy land in search of a better way to assimilate or disappear. Only the lieutenants and the unlucky remained, or those who knew he would someday return.

Little did they know that _someday_ would not be vague, measured in years, but _now_. The soil itself had hummed; those attuned to the earth could feel something traveling to them, piecing itself back together day by day with the vivid energy of boundless nanites and willpower.

Why would he have died?

They'd known all along.

Today was the day; he'd tried, before, but his strength wasn't yet sufficient. Today, however, the vines had begun to slither around Abyssus' throne again, and they knew he would return.

One knelt properly, dangerous claws tucked and head bowed. One stood, colossal, possibly because it was physically impossible to kneel. The third ducked her head, but didn't throw herself to the ground like the little group's temporary leader.

Former leader, now.

Roots burst from the ground, curling around each other. Earth and everything else sprouted, curling upwards, humming with nanite activity. Like something from a nightmare, the bones compacted themselves into existence, muscles knitted together, first legs to pelvis and then chest cavity, an inexplicably beating heart soon covered by a favored uniform, skin stretching tight over features that could have been handsome – and arms. Two of them. One, new and pale and only slightly thinner than the other.

_He_ flexed the arm experimentally.

Then he drew his other fingers along it. Flesh and blood. And a little something else. The man placed his hand on the trunk of the tree, and yellow light spread from where he touched, setting it to twine up and over itself, roots coming alive.

A triumphant smile spread across his sunken face.

"Welcome back, Van Kleiss," hissed the kneeling one.

The man sat upon his throne, life seeping from the stone of the ruins and outward, revitalizing Abyssus with his very presence. Long dark hair fell to his shoulders, streaks of grey still prominent.

"Thank you, Biowulf. It is good to be back."

* * *

Clouds swept past, clean squares of land laid out below them like a patchwork. The sun shone, conditions were clear, and so far, they'd evaded and outrun any attempts at pursuit.

"Six, have I ever told you how cool you are?" Rex said.

"Inadequate." Six frowned at the control screen.

"Okay. Six, you are the greatest, most coolest, beautiful, mad skilled-"

"Too much." He shot Rex a glare. "Do you mind?"

"Thanks for surprise saving my life, Six," Rex continued, smiling. "I am so glad not to be randomly dead after a great double-mission day. This is gonna be very cool, especially the part where White can't screw with my life ever again. Even if we should have brought Dr. Holiday along to stick it to Providence with us."

"Her sister's still in the Petting Zoo," Six said, not taking his eyes off the radar screen.

"Hence taking her out _before_ shortin' out the cameras," Bobo explained. He had one furry fist buried in a bag of chips, and the other hand scratched the temple beside his eyepatch. "She was in on it, though, better actor than your ninja nanny, so don't worry."

"Oh." It was just enough to quiet Rex for a minute or so, before he asked again where they were headed.

Six didn't answer, so Rex turned to the hooded Providence agent piloting their stolen ship, tapping him on the shoulder. "Does Agent Six have a secret bunker or a Bat-Cave he hasn't been sharing, or something?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

Rex gaped at the man.

"What?"

"You…can talk," Rex said pointedly. "I mean, you can all _talk_, but usually you just ignore me."

"We're already temporarily separated from Providence," the pilot said, shrugging. "I'm obeying Agent Six's orders at the moment, on account of him wanting to keep the only known cure to EVOs in commission."

Rex sat back in a passenger seat against the wall, directly behind the agent. "Are you all like that?" he asked, eyes fixed on the back of the uniform's hood.

"Like what?"

"You – I dunno, you have _souls_? Providence employs actual _people_, not just... clones? Robots?"

"I'm not Jango Fett, if that's what you're asking." The man laughed.

"Who?"

"From a movie. Maybe you're too young."

"Providence people watch _movies_?"

Bobo rolled his eyes.

Rex pointed at him. "I saw that."

"I think you've had too much sugar today, kid. Way chattier than usual."

"I can't believe you're not crazy shocked by this guy carrying on a conversation with me."

"Yeah, it's almost like you're human beings," Bobo replied sarcastically.

Rex returned to the pilot. "So do you have real names, too?" he asked,

"Sure do." The guy turned a dial.

There was an expectant silence.

"…Well?"

"Rex, can you please be _quiet_?" Six said, frowning at him over the shoulder of the copilot chair. "This isn't a field trip."

"Yeah, okay, just interested," Rex said, sinking back into his seat.

"So where _are_ we goin'?" Bobo said,

Six began to respond, but the rear end of the ship stopped existing very suddenly and with a great deal of noise.

One moment they were flying, the next, the engines exploded, just about everything past the point where Bobo sat had been incinerated or torn right off, and the airship system went offline.

Everything shook and tumbled and they hurtled downwards – Rex had been trained for this but it was so sudden, so nonchalant, Boogie Pack up and running, he'd grabbed a parachute from the underseat compartment for good measure, kicked off of the freefalling metal frame, slipped on his goggles - all before he'd had time to process the fact that the back part of the ship just _blew up_.


End file.
